


The Truth and Consequences Job

by Aj (aj2245)



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Crossover, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aj2245/pseuds/Aj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family connections come back to haunt Eliot and Jo gets some help from an unexpected corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth and Consequences Job

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written before Alona Tal's appearance. I'll finish it eventually!

Joanna Beth Harvelle learned of her mother's death, and that of her own simulcrum, three days after the fact. CNN had finally noticed that a town of nearly ten thousand had been slaughtered - no one was sure just why the entire town had walked into a gas explosion - and the 'breaking news' had popped up on the fuzzy tv in her Texas motel room.

The only reason Jo thinks something might even be wrong is because Anderson Fucking Cooper is standing in front of her mother's tricked out woody station wagon, being properly empathetic and horrified.

Five frantic phone calls to dead voice mails and a rather desperate (and failed) switching ritual later, Jo's sobbing on a flowered duvet of questionable cleanliness and allowing herself exactly two days of guilty wallowing.

\---

The whole simulcrum thing happened like this.

One day, Jo was driving to a job in Montana when she got a call from her mother. Feeling cheerful in the fact that she was three hundred miles away from the woman and slightly guilty about not having talked to her in three weeks, she'd picked up.

Ash was dead. The Roadhouse was burned to the ground. Hell was unleashed upon Earth. Oh, and by the way, could she come pick Ellen up because if her damn-fool child was going to do something so retarded as hunting during the goddamn coming apocalypse, she was an even bigger idiot than previously stated (repeatedly, and usually at great volume) if she thought Ellen wasn't going to be coming along to keep an eye on her.

Later, she blamed actually turning around on grief and vast, bottomless stupidity.

Two months of backseat hunting and I-can-do-it-better attitude from one Ellen Harvelle had been more than enough motivation to track down a goddamn shaman to give her replication directions that 1. wouldn't result in her mother actually being killed by said replication due to evil thoughts or common sense and 2. would last at least a month without dissolving into dust.

It'd worked. Almost a year, it'd worked. Two months of quality time with Ellen and two months of endless, blissful silence. No calls or directions because, for all Ellen knew, Jo was sitting right next to her, calmly not stabbing her in the face. No criticisms on her hair or eyeliner or her lack of speed with the flame thrower or didn't she have _better taste_ than that last trucker, _honestly, Joanna Beth!_

Jo loved her mother. She really did. Admired her too. But goddamn, living with her was a trial, and having her question every decision Jo ever made was like water torture (which she knew all about, THANK YOU to a fucked up Vietnam Vet spirit she'd taken out in Georgia.)

And yeah, dark magic, yadda, yadda, but at the time Jo'd been sure it was the only thing that'd saved her mother's life.

She never imagined it'd be the other way 'round.

\---

It takes her exactly six hours to stop sobbing every few minutes. This is partially because she's dehydrated (movies never cover the physical effects of grief all that well) and partially because she is her mother's daughter. As much of a pain in the ass as Ellen Harvelle was (Jesus), she'd been nothing, if not practical. It'd been one of the many things Jo admired about her mama, and one that she'd busted her ass to emulate.

Fortunately (or not), those lessons had run true in Jo. Her mama was dead. She was kinda dead too. By now Bobby probably knew and was spreading the news to the few who'd be interested. Which meant that the entire Hunting world wouldn't believe a damn word she said until she'd bled out in their front yard.

She had the money in her pocket, the clothes on her back, and the car in the lot. Though the car would be damn questionable, depending how un-distracted the apocalypse'd made Bobby this week. She knows Bobby and she knows he wouldn't truck with anyone using her name but her. Goddamn efficient hillbillies.

Oh, and that other thing.

The good thing is that he'd been so far removed from the Hunter scene for so long, the news probably wouldn't have reached him yet. And really, he deserves to hear it from her.

Her hands are shaking as she hits '3' on her speed-dial and listens to the ringer. He picks up on the fifth ring, his voice snapping everything that's been fuzzy for the last six hours directly into focus.

Her voice is raspy and hard used, but clear.

"Uncle Eliot? Mama's dead and the world's more fucked than we thought. I'm comin' to Boston."


End file.
